Young and unbothered, with time not young enough, to be oblivious to it but young enough. The sun rises even on a cloudy day as if to say, What will be will be. Our permanent accountable-a-buddy, reminding me, I have not yet done all that I will do. And like the sun, each day I must rise too. Young enough to be bothered by the betrayers and naysayers, the ex-lovers and friends, the corruption and hedonistic whims. Young enough to still mourn the loss of them. They say every rose has its thorn, that every life sees its fair share of storms, that grief is a badge, an honor of having once had, but like any good farmer knows, nothing grows once the soil's gone bad. Still young enough to have hope, this paranoia will not stay until the end. The bitterness and resentment dissolved in faith and forgiveness-- water under new bridges, pH in balance. Old enough to know that what's meant for me ...